The Hardest Thing
by Amethyst M
Summary: The hardest thing is not what it seems to be. Featuring Super!Sam and Dean. Brief Castiel appearance. Spoilers for seasons 6 & 7, and the first episode, but since you're reading Supernatural fan fiction, I figure it's safe to assume you've seen the first episode. Story #3 in my AU series.


The Hardest Thing

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I am just borrowing them for a bit. Don't worry, I will put them back.

"What's up, Sheriff?" Dean inquired. The Winchester brothers were back in Sioux Falls, having lunch at the local cafe.

Jodie looked at him. "Something odd. We keep getting reports of bodies coming in, with animal bites, but it's more than just that. There are internal organs missing when we autopsy them and teeth marks where the organs were. Mostly hearts, though one guy also had his lungs...eaten."

Dean sighed. "Werewolf. Great. Sam, you up for this?"

The dark-haired Winchester brother nodded. He looked stressed, Jodie thought. More stressed than usual.

"Should I be packing silver bullets?" Jodie asked.

"Wouldn't hurt, but it has to be straight through the heart," Dean replied.

Jodie nodded. "Sam, you ok?"

He nodded. "Just dealing with more than the normal crap lately."

She looked worried. "Like what?"

Sam looked around. Not many people were in the cafe. "Promise me you won't freak out."

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea," Dean said.

"Dean, we don't exactly have many people who can help us," Sam said. "We need to trust someone."

Jodie looked Sam in the eye. "I've seen zombies, remember? I can handle whatever this is."

"Ok," Sam said. He concentrated on the salt shaker on the table. It rose a couple of inches into the air and hovered.

Jodie's mouth fell open.

"I can do a lot more than that," Sam admitted, and took the salt shaker with his hand.

"How is that possible?"

"The night our mother was murdered, I was just a baby. The demon who killed her gave me some of his blood. Ever since then, I've had...abilities. It started with dreams that came true, turned into exorcising demons, and lately it's been a lot more. My telekinesis is back. I can channel hellfire. And there's this weird electricity thing I really can't control yet. I'm becoming...something. Cas slowed it down, gave me a few more years, but he said I'm supposed to wind up becoming the next evolutionary link. So basically, I'm some sort of…mutant."

Jodie's eyes widened. "I take it you didn't get a vote?"

The corners of Sam's mouth turned into a sarcastic grin. "Do I ever?"

"Cas is...?"

"He's an angel. You might have seen him on the news. Dark hair, wears a trench coat, women seem to dig him," Dean said.

Jodie looked stunned. "But he killed those people."

"Yeah, he had about 100,000 souls from purgatory in him at the time," Sam said. "That tends to mess a guy up, even an angel."

Jodie nodded. "I guess." She took a sip of coffee. "So, what about the werewolf?"

"Leave him to us," Dean said. "Pack silver if it makes you feel better, but call us if you find him first."

"Will do."

Wearing their Fed suits, the Winchester brothers hit the morgue to question the employees. They were trying to avoid the police station. Too many people had seen the Leviathans pretending to be them, committing mass murder on TV. So the morgue was their second choice.

Sam had, by now, gotten used to looking at dead bodies. The teeth marks on this one were too big and deep to be anything but a werewolf.

"So, uh...any wolf or large dog sightings around town recently?" Sam asked the coroner.

"As a matter of fact, yes. I have heard reports of a wolf around the park at night. I sure hope someone takes care of it, if that's what's killing these people."

"We'll get in touch with animal control," said Dean. "Thanks for your time."

As they walked out, Dean said, "Stakeout time."

"This werewolf thing is getting worse," Sam said. "It's only a quarter moon tonight."

"No kidding," said Dean. "Hey, how's your head?"

"So far, so good. Let's hope it stays that way."

"Yeah. I have an idea about that."

"What?"

"I think we need to find Chuck after we gank this werewolf," Dean said.

"Chuck? Why?" Sam asked.

"Let's just say I think he knows more than he's letting on," Dean replied.

Sam looked surprised. "Like what?"

"I think he's been pulling our chains this whole time. I think he's God."

Sam looked thoughtful. "Well, there was that little talk in the cafe."

"What talk?"

"You weren't there. I think he was trying to nudge me in the right direction, without giving anything away."

"Which is a very God-like thing, not so much a prophet-like thing," Dean said.

"But why didn't the amulet glow?" Sam asked.

"He probably didn't want it to."

"So, we find Chuck and try to make a deal?"

"That's the plan," Dean said.

"Works for me," Sam replied.

It was midnight. The park was almost deserted, except for a black Impala with it's lights off and Dean with a pair of binoculars. Sam peered out the window.

"Anything?" Sam asked.

"No. Wait, some guy is walking his dog. It's a frigging poodle."

The guy was middle-aged, slighty pudgy, wearing a wool coat, dark pants, and boots. He stopped to scoop up the dog's poop, and then kept on walking.

Sam sighed with boredom. He opened his hand and generated a cold blue flame. It had an eerie blue glow that was not very bright.

"Dude, don't do that. It drains the heat," Dean said.

Sam put out the flame.

Dean continued watching out the window. There was suddenly a knock on the opposite window. Both brothers jumped.

"Hi, boys. Mind if I join you?" It was Sheriff Mills.

Dean rolled down the window. "Got silver?"

She patted her holster. "You betcha. Also, I brought coffee." She held up a thermos and Styrofoam cups.

Sam opened the car door. "Ok."

Gratefully, Sam accepted the coffee poured into a Styrofoam cup. "No sign of the werewolf yet."

"It's not a full moon," Sheriff Mills said. "Why is there a werewolf at all?"

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. "It's complicated," Sam replied.

"After we stopped the apocalypse, the monsters have gone kinda haywire," Dean supplied. "It's like they're pissed that the world didn't end, so now they're all messed up."

"All the monsters?" the Sheriff asked, incredulous.

"We know the werewolves no longer need a full moon to change," Sam said. "And vampire activity has increased big time. Ghost sightings, too."

"Anything else I need to know?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other. "I think that about covers it for now," Dean replied.

"Yeah well, it's the 'for now' part that concerns me," Jodie said.

Just then, Dean caught a glimpse of something with his binoculars. "I think I found our werewolf," he said, and then the Impala was jolted violently.

Jodie grabbed her gun. Sam looked around, and saw a large, hairy figure in the rear window.

"More like he found us," Sam said.

Dean got out of the car and fired his gun. The werewolf dodged.. Then there was a horrible sound as claws scraped the front of the car.

"Two werewolves!" Sam exclaimed as he got out of the car.

"Rule number one," Dean said, staring at the second werewolf. "You do not screw with my car. Rule number two: If you screw with my car, you will be the one getting screwed over." He aimed a shot at the werewolf's heart and was about to pull the trigger, when he got tackled from behind.

Jodie got out and fired at the first werewolf. Sam aimed a fireball at the second. The second werewolf howled in pain as the hellfire burned its fur. Jodie's shot hit the first werewolf in the shoulder. It loosened its grip on Dean, who broke free and shot point-blank into its heart.

The second werewolf swung its claws at Sam, who jumped away. Sam threw another fireball at it. By now, the thing was completely enshrouded in flames. The werewolf growled and tried to slash at Sam, but was in too much pain to aim properly.

"Congratulations, you pissed it off more," Dean said. As he emptied his gun into its heart, the werewolf collapsed into a pile of smoldering ashes. "Another one bites the dust."

The Impala's radio crackled to life. Sam jumped. Jodie looked into the car. It was not running, and Dean had taken the key out of the ignition.

"This is Air Force One. We were hijacked a few minutes ago and are currently heading towards the East coast. Repeat, we have been hijacked. The things on board...they're not human. Help us..." the radio cut off.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked. "How is that even possible?"

"I don't know. But we need to do something," Sam said.

Dean slapped Sam on the back. "Go get 'em, Clark Kent."

Sam frowned. "Dean, it's not like I can just fly after them. I can't control it."

"You never know until you try," he replied.

"Wait, you can fly?!" Jodie asked, incredulous.

"Um…more like float," Sam said. "I was unconscious at the time, so I can't really control it."

The radio crackled again. "We are in dire need of assistance. If anyone can hear me, you have to send us help. We were hijacked about half an hour ago. Some of us are dead. Status of Renegade is unknown." There was a sound of a gun firing, then a scream. The speaker's voice trembled as he whispered, "That was the pilot. Help us. For the love of God, please help us."

The radio went dead again.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

"How on Earth is the radio doing that?" Jodie asked.

"Who cares? It could be Chuck, for all we know," Dean said. "I wouldn't put it past him. Go, Sam. This is your deal."

Sam sighed. "Okay. I'll give it a shot."

His brow furrowed as he concentrated. The coffee cups in the car floated, but Sam himself remained on the ground.

"It's not working," Sam said.

Jodie looked at the coffee cups. "You're doing something."

He turned around. "Huh. Well, I guess that's what they call a light roast."

Dean couldn't help grinning a bit. "Yeah, a little too light. Come on, Sam."

"I'm trying."

"Try not to spill the coffee while you're at it. I don't want to have to clean the car out."

Sam concentrated and put the coffee cups back into their drink holders. "Happy?"

Dean nodded. Sam sighed and tried again. This time, he managed to levitate himself off the ground a couple of inches.

"Uh…okay, now what?" he wondered aloud.

"I don't know. Think happy thoughts?" Dean suggested.

"Dean, I'm not Peter Pan," Sam protested, but he tried for a few moments while hovering in the air. Nothing came to mind. He shrugged. "I can't even think of anything happy."

"Nothing?" Jodie asked.

"No," he replied.

"That's sad," she said.

"Yeah well, our lives haven't exactly been peachy," he said.

Sam tried for another few moments, and then one happy memory finally came to mind of setting off fireworks with Dean when they were kids. He floated higher into the air. A look of astonishment showed on Jodie's face. Dean grinned.

The radio crackled to life once more. It was a different voice this time. "This is Air Force One. We are entering New York City air space. I repeat, we are entering New York City air space. Requesting permission to…" the voice trailed off as the cabin door was forcibly opened. "Dick Roman? What the….? Aaaaaaugh!"

"Go!" Dean shouted.

Sam grasped onto his happy thought and soared into the sky. South Dakota was pretty far from New York. He hoped he could fly fast; otherwise Air Force One was screwed. He had noticed the discrepancy in the radio. It was as if there had been a time warp on the plane. The Leviathans were on board. Who knew what they had planned? This was not good.

He had not planned at all for this possibility. If he was spotted by security cameras, they would surely figure out that he was alive, and also Dean. He had no costume, nothing to hide his face with. He and Dean would once again be outlaws, unless he could figure out how to hide himself. Still, saving Air Force One was the main priority. He decided to put his concerns about being recognized aside and deal with that if it happened.

He passed over Minnesota and Wisconsin in less than five minutes. He was making good time, considering that he was just now getting the hang of flying. But he only had half an hour to get to the plane, and then get onto it. Sam passed over Lake Michigan and finally over Michigan. Getting closer. There were about 23 minutes left. He was now crossing over part of Canada and heading towards Lake Ontario. He saw Toronto from above. The clock was ticking. 20 minutes left.

Finally, he spotted Air Force One. The sky was absolutely clear. The white and blue Boeing VC-25 was less than half a mile away. He could see the American flag on the tail.

Sam got up close enough to peek in one of the windows. Keeping his head down while trying to match the speed of the plane was not easy. He glimpsed the President lying back in his seat, apparently unconscious. There was no blood, so he could still be alive. He also saw several crew members lying in the aisle. Dick Roman was headed towards the cockpit, and someone was trying to break down the bathroom door.

"Okay Chuck, I'm here. How do I get in?" Sam asked.

There was no response.

"Cas? You around?"

There was no response.

Sam sighed. Well, it was a crazy idea, but it just might work. He knocked on the emergency door. This provoked a stunned response from the Leviathan who had been trying to open the bathroom door. Dick Roman even turned around.

He knocked on the emergency door again. Finally, the Leviathan who had been trying to open the bathroom door walked over to the emergency door and opened it. The creature looked completely stunned.

"I'm selling thin mints. Want some?" Sam quipped, and punched the surprised Leviathan.

He struggled onto the plane. Gasping for breath and clutching a nearby seat, he used his ability to telekinetically close the door before all of the air could escape.

"What, Leviathans don't like cookies? Come on, I thought you guys were always hungry."

One of the stunned secret service agents on the floor coughed and opened his eyes. "Sam Winchester? You're supposed to be dead."

Sam recognized the agent's voice from the radio. "Yeah well, I'm kind of like Indiana Jones' hat," he replied. "Every time it rolls away, it comes back."

Dick Roman glared at him. "We were planning on having a six-course meal, with a side of President as the main course and Vice President for desert, when you so rudely interrupted us. I do have to ask though; where the hell did you learn to fly?"

"Neverland," Sam responded. He produced a spray bottle from his jacket. "I always keep one of these things handy now," he said, and sprayed the cleaning solution at Roman.

The Leviathan cursed loudly in his native tongue as his skin burned. Then he lunged at Sam, who ducked. As Roman hit the floor, the plane veered sharply towards the left.

"How's the pilot?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," said the secret service agent.

"Go check on him," Sam said.

The agent struggled to his feet and limped toward the cockpit. Sam could see that the agent had a nasty-looking gash in his leg. It was still bloody.

Roman got up again. Sam sprayed him with the cleaning solution. "Let's try something new," he said and created a ball of cold hellfire.

The Leviathan groaned, "What is that…?"

"Hellfire. See, it has some rather interesting physical properties that they don't teach you about in vacation Bible school," Sam said with a grin. "First lesson, hellfire can burn cold as well as hot."

"The pilot's dying," the secret service agent shouted. "The co-pilot is dead."

Sam threw the cold hellfire at Roman. There was a moment when he didn't think it was going to do anything, but then Roman froze from head to toe. The Leviathan literally became a statue of blue ice. Sam punched him and the statue shattered into thousands of tiny crystals.

Then the other Leviathan, who Sam had momentarily forgotten about, tackled him from behind. As he fell, Sam dropped the bottle of cleaning solution.

"Help!" he shouted.

The secret service agent grasped the situation. While Sam struggled with the other Leviathan, the agent grabbed the bottle.

"What do I do with this?" he asked.

"Just spray it," Sam yelled as his head was slammed against a chair.

The secret service agent sprayed down the currently active Leviathan, which screamed.

There was a mutter of "What the…" as one of the passengers came to. He was one of the reporters.

The Leviathan opened a gaping mouth filled with very pointed teeth, and attempted to take a bite out of Sam. He dodged and the Leviathan wound up with a mouthful of chair.

Sam broke free from the Leviathan's grasp and let loose with another ball of blue hellfire. He iced the Leviathan and the chair, too.

The reporter was amazed. "Now, that's cool."

Sam punched the frozen statue and the ice went flying everywhere.

"Who's flying the plane?" he asked.

There was a moment of silence. The secret service agent checked the cockpit. "The pilot is dead."

"Oh shit," said the reporter as the plane sharply dropped altitude. The reporter looked at Sam again in recognition. "You're…holy crap. You're Sam Winchester."

"Believe it or not, my brother and I didn't kill those people. Those things I killed here, they can look like anyone if they want to. Dick Roman's probably been dead for months. Now, I'm going to get us out of this mess, but I want one thing in return."

"What?"

"I wasn't here."

"Not possible," said the reporter. "The security cameras will have recorded everything. This is Air Force One. They have backups of backups of backups. Unless you can somehow fry them without taking out the plane controls?"

Sam shook his head. "Don't think so. Okay, so the secret identity thing is out. Hang on; the ride is going to get bumpy."

He concentrated as hard as he could, doing his best to slow the plane's descent. A thick stream of blood was trailing down from his nose to his chin. He ignored the blood as best as he could.

"Hello, Sam," an all-too familiar voice said from behind him.

"Piss off, Lucifer," he growled. "I'm not in the mood."

The secret service agent and the reporter exchanged worried glances.

"Do you really think you're going to save these people?" Lucifer continued. "And even if you do, it's not like they're just going to let you walk…or…fly away."

"I said, piss off," Sam said under his breath.

The Boeing jet shook a bit. He was losing concentration. They were over the New York Harbor. Sam could see the Statue of Liberty out the port window. The plane was still coming in too fast. He pressed his finger into the scar on his palm, and Lucifer disappeared.

Sam knew that he had to slow the plane down more. He concentrated harder. The blood was gushing from his nose at this point, and he had a migraine dagger stabbing itself in his head and twisting the blade around 360 degrees. But he was still the only one who could do it.

"Gotta hit the ditching button," the secret service agent said. "Land her in the water. I'll find the ditching button."

Sam kept concentrating on slowing the Boeing down, and finally it was hovering over New York Harbor.

"Got it," shouted the secret service agent from the cockpit. There was a whirring sound as various valves were closed.

The migraine pain was finally too overwhelming. Sam blacked out and collapsed. The Boeing made a belly-flop splash down right in the New York Harbor.

Sam woke up with an oxygen mask attached to his face. He was strapped to a gurney, which was currently outside on the ground. A very worried Dean, with an equally-worried looking Cas, were nearby.

"Mmmph!"

"Hey, you're finally awake," said the secret service agent. "Name's Daniels, by the way. I uh, think you have my badge."

Dean looked at him. "I disavow any knowledge of said badge. We're uh, Robert Johnson and Richard Penniman. This here's our co-worker, Jack Bruce." He gestured to Castiel.

"Uh huh," said Daniels. "Sorry, Dean. I watch TV, and we've all been briefed on you. Multiple times, I should add."

"Cas? Can we get a little help here? Memory wipe?" Dean asked.

"I was ordered not to intervene," the angel replied. "This is pre-ordained."

"Great," he sighed.

The secret service agent looked at Castiel and then at Dean. "The Trench-Coat Killer is a friend of yours?"

"I was possessed," Castiel said, "by 100,000 souls. Including several Leviathans."

"Oh….kay."

"He's an angel," said Dean. "As in, literally."

Agent Daniels' eyes widened.

"Mmmmph," Sam said. He took the oxygen mask off and wiped some of the blood off his face. "What's happening?"

"Well, right now, you're on pretty much every TV channel in existence. They've played parts of the security footage from the plane, including the part where you knocked on the door and the leviathan let you in," Daniels said. "They were actually going to load you into the ambulance just now."

Sam closed his eyes. "Great."

"Maybe we can make some money on this," Dean said. "It would be nice to not have to be public enemy number one."

"You mean, assuming they believe me about us not killing all of those people?" Sam replied.

"Well, you did save the President's life. That's gotta count for something," Dean said.

A police officer approached them warily. "Sam and Dean Winchester?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah."

"You're under arrest for suspicion of bank robbery and murder."

"We didn't kill those people," Sam stated. "That was the Leviathans."

"Tell it to the judge," said the cop.

"Wait," Dean said. "Cas, you can help us here. Right? I mean, you're not going to let us get hauled off to jail, are you?"

Castiel shook his head. "I can't intervene any more than I already have by bringing you here."

"There's another way out of this," Sam said. He had removed the straps and was climbing off the gurney.

"What?" Dean asked. Then his eyes widened. "You are not going to do what I think you are."

Sam grinned. "Come on, Dean. We've got a planet to save."

The police officer folded his arms. "At least beat me up so it doesn't look like I just let you escape?"

"Well, it's not as if you have a choice. If you know anything about us, you should know that the only way we're going to jail is if we want to be there. That's not happening anytime soon," Dean said.

Sam glanced at Dean. "Ready?"

"Yeah." Dean put his arm around his brother.

There were a few gasps as people around them realized that yes; Sam was actually floating in mid-air.

"Valete," he said with a wave, and took off with Dean, leaving an astonished crowd of onlookers behind.

"Uh Sam?" Dean asked, about 10 minutes later. They were back over Sioux Falls.

"Yeah?"

"Have you figured out how to land yet?"

"No, that's kind of the hardest thing."

Dean tried very hard not to panic. "Um…now would be a good time to learn."

"Right. Okay." Sam concentrated on landing. Nothing. "Not working."

"Try a sad thought," Dean said.

Well, at least that wasn't difficult. Sam thought of Jessica, on the ceiling. Immediately, he started to plummet.

"Too sad," Dean shouted.

"Right. Um…" Sam thought of their mother, but instead, they just fell faster.

Dean clenched his teeth. "Sam!"

Apparently, he had to find something that was only a little sad. This was difficult. Finally he settled on the day he had to leave his golden retriever, Bones, behind. The falling stopped several feet from the ground and slowed to a feather-fall.

Dean let out a sigh of relief. "Whatever that was, it was perfect."

"It was the dog," Sam said as they touched down. "The day I let him go."

"The dog? Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Dean shook his head. "That's your only memory that's just a little sad?"

"Apparently."

"Next time you get a really cool super power, do me a favor and figure it out before you need to use it to save a major world leader."

Sam laughed. "You know I'm probably number one on You Tube right now?"

"Yeah. About that, I think we're going to have to go hit the local costume shop and get us some disguises."

"Probably not a bad idea," Sam said.

"Okay, Clark Kent. Let's go get you a secret identity so we can actually walk around in public without being mobbed. Then we're going to have to find the Mother of All, and kick her ass before she comes after us for you having killed the Leviathans."

Sam nodded. "Great plan."

"At least I have one."

The End (for now)


End file.
